"What's not right? Come over here and sit with me and tell me what's not right."

Benjamin rises and walks slowly to the table. The doctor pours two glasses of water andplaces one in front of his patient.

"Please, sit down."

"Water puts out fire, you know.”

The doctor remains silent.

"But I like ice better. I dream about it sometimes."

"You do? What do you dream about ice?"

Benjamin sits looking at his glass of water.

"Benjamin, what do you dream about ice?"

He looks up at the doctor.

"I don't have to tell you."

"That's true; you don't have to tell me. It's just that I'm curious."

Benjamin grins.

"Killed a cat once," he says, pleased with himself.

The doctor smiles."Ah, but they say that satisfaction brought it back."

Benjamin frowns.

"Do you know what an ice pick is?"

"An ice pick? Yes, I think so."

"There was one in my dream, a long one with a very sharp point. It had a red handle. Hekept stabbing a big block of ice with it, over and over and over again, but only very tiny pieces came off.”

"Benjamin, he who? Who was stabbing the block of ice?"

Benjamin does not respond.

"Do you know who was stabbing the ice?"

Benjamin repeatedly rubs his upper front teeth over his bottom lip.

"No, I don't."

"Are you sure? Was it you? Were you stabbing the block of ice?"

Benjamin bends forward and rests his head on his crossed hands on the table. He is quietfor several minutes.

"It was made of lace.""I'm sorry?"

"My mother's dress, it was made of lace, beautiful, coffee-colored, lace."

He sits up and looks at the doctor.

"He burned it."

"Who burned it?"

"My father."

"How do you know he burned it?"

Benjamin begins to rub the top of the table with the fingers of his left hand.

"I was with him. He made me watch. He dug a shallow hole and put the dress in it, andset it on fire. 'Daddy,' I said, 'I don't want to be here.' But he would not let me leave.”

"Do you know why he burned your mother's dress?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me?"

"No."

"I think you will feel better if you tell me."

Silence.

"Benjamin, you can tell me. It’s all right to tell me. I won’t tell anyone else. It will be just our secret.”

Benjamin stands up and walks back to his chair in the corner of the room.

The doctor writes some notes, places Benjamin's file back in his briefcase, rises, and leaves. In his chair, Benjamin begins to sway, rocking slowly back and forth, to the rhythm of a lullaby buzzing inside his head.

​

About the Author: Gershon Ben-Avraham holds an MA in Philosophy (Aesthetics) from Temple University. He lives and writes in Be’er Sheva, Israel. His short stories have appeared in both online and print journals, including the Broad River Review, Jewish Fiction.net, and Big Muddy. His short story Yoineh Bodek is planned for publication in the spring of 2018 by Image: Art, Faith, Mystery.